The Chronicles of Evelyn Yates, State Alchemist
by Rainy Days With Tea
Summary: Evelyn Yates is the Whitewood Alchemist. Her mother died in a house fire that left her orphaned. She is angry, alone, seeking vengeance on the monster who killed her mom. Then she meets the Elric brothers and she has a whole dollop of difficulty added to her already overflowing plate. "Damn those boys," she muttered for seemingly the millionth time.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

**Innocence Lost**

She had been carefree once, a child with ribbons in her hair and a smile wide and beautiful. She was full of childhood naiveté and the curiosity of a thousand and one suns. She wore pretty pastel dresses that her mother sewed for her, jumpers with shorts because she really didn't like skirts, thank you very much, and smart little brown boots good for exploring. She loved exploring—the pursuit of knowledge and a chance for fantasy. Books were her friends, words were her weapons, and her fists her shields. She was a girl with stars in her eyes and a heart full of laughter and love.

Children stay happy for rarely so long, do they not? One thing leads to another. Innocence is snatched like a butterfly in a spider's web, eaten, and forgotten in almost the same instant.

Sometimes, however, the spider likes to let the butterfly wait.

The smell of smoke was not uncommon in the Yates house so late in November. The chill always managed to worm its way into even the smallest crevasses of the attic, making the young girl, currently sitting up in bed, shiver fiercely. It was always cold this close to the mountains. They weren't quite as close to Briggs as they could have been (they were quite close to North City, just a six hour train ride away), but it was still cold. The girl knew that until her mother lit the fire in the fireplace downstairs, her room would remain as cold as the mountains they lived by. Oh how she yearned for the cozy warmth of her room via the fireplace flue at the right hand wall of her room. But already she could tell this smoke and heat were different

Fear clawing at the girl's throat, she slowly clambered out of bed, the clumsy feet of a four year old fumbling on the warm rug. The wood floor was warm where it should have been cold, almost painfully burning the underneath of her bare feet. She shuddered involuntarily as she literally hot-footed it to the other side of her room, tiny hand opening the door to her bedroom. She winced at the heat emanating from the brass door knob.

"These things aren't supposed to be hot?" she whispered softly, clever mind already putting a few pieces of the puzzle together, but not nearly enough to go for help while there was still time.

She slowly started down the hall, tiptoeing as not to disturb her mother; the scent of smoke intensified the closer she got to the head of the landing. A rough cough loosed itself from her throat, and she brought her hand up to smother it. From below, a flickering glow reflected off the repeatedly whitewashed walls, throwing the entire room into sharp contrast. "Mom?" she called warily. It was really late. Surely she had doused the fire…

No answer, however, met her ears. The crackling flames seemed to intensify, magnifying in velocity, the sound reminding her of sap popping during the summer heat when she'd swim in the river with Mattie Nichols and her baby sister Ethel, who was barely old enough to stick her chubby legs in the water without one of them watching warily from the riverbank. Her bare feet carried her unsteadily down those stairs, heart pounding uncomfortably in her throat. _Why_ _isn't Mommy answering me? _Her feet were burning now, a painful hotness that had her skipping from step to step. Why was it so hot? It wasn't even this hot in the summer.

She was halfway down the stairs when she finally saw why.

"Mommy!" she shrieked as soon as she reached the first level. It looked like something birthed from the nightmares of children. Fire had engulfed the entire kitchen, and was making its way to the living room like a many tendriled monster vying for food. "Mommy! There's a fire!"

From atop the landing, the ghostly figure of a woman appeared. Her auburn hair was alight in the flames, and her blue eyes, so much like her daughter's, were wide with fear. "Evie!" she cried, running down the stairs to scoop her young daughter into her arms. "What happened?"

"I woke up and it was all smoky in my room, so I went downstairs!" Evie—who was really called Evelyn, but only when she wanted to sound like a grownup—cried, frightened tears running down her round face. "I didn't do it! I swear! _I swear_!"

But her mother ignored her daughter's pleas. Her mother was looking around, peering through the fire for something (anything) that had started the blaze. They were wasting time, thought Evie It didn't take long for her, even at the young age of four, to comprehend that we were going to die here if they didn't do something, and soon…

She struggled from her mother's grip, grabbing her tightly by the hand. It seemed stupid, a child her age grabbing her mother's gigantic hand. "We need to get outside!" she choked out, somehow managing to ignore the coying smoke in the air as it snaked down her throat. The sound of shouting pierced the air from outside. Men cried for Violetknoll's bucket brigade to form up. Some shouted for others to rescue the two inhabitants. Them.

Evie cried out in pain as a burning beam fell, landing on her back, crushing her to the floor. Flames charred her skin, along with the soft muscle underneath, but she managed to roll out from underneath it before any real damage could be done. Evie tumbled to the ground, landing in the far corner, the only part of the room _not_ engulfed in flames. Through the haze and smoke, she could hear her mother screaming from the center of the smoke-filled room, terror clear in her voice as the structural supports of the home began to crumble all around them…

Before she sunk into unconsciousness, the last thing Evie heard was her mother's desperate cries for help.

…

"…poor dear. Losing someone so close at that age…"

"Any idea what started it?"

Evie winced as she slowly dredged herself up from the thick veils of unconsciousness. The first thing she noticed was that she was lying on her stomach. There was a cold compress pressed tightly against her left shoulder, and she shivered at its touch.

She hated the cold.

"They don't know. Foul play is what I'm chalking this up as." She could hear the two voices now. Loud and distinct, as if they were standing right next to her. "Anne was such a lovely woman…"

"Doctor Margery!" The door was swung open with such force, Evie winced. Her head was pounding like some sadistic monkey was taking a bat to it and using it for batting practice. She just wanted to _sleep_… "Evie! Is she alright?"

_Mattie_… Evie thought with a small smile. _Too overprotective, as always__…_ "Quiet, girl!" the first voice growled out. "She needs her rest!"

_Who calls Mattie__ '__girl' all the time? _She wondered tiredly, her brain at least four steps behind. The blurred sight of an imposing woman, blonde hair pulled back in a bun, cigarette held in one hand, met her foggy vision. _Doctor Margery__… __that's who__…_

"I came as soon as I could," Evie heard someone else say. This one was feminine, too, but much younger than Doctor Margery. "I was just putting the girls to bed when I heard all the shouting. Did they find…"

"…Asphyxiation," Margery said softly, "Evie here has second degree burns to her shoulder and back. Collarbone's fractured, too. Most likely from the fall of that support beam."

"But did they find—"

"It wasn't human!" she exploded, earning a whimper from a curious third party, who had remained silent. _Probably Ethel__, _she thought. "Anne Yates…she didn't look even _remotely_ human."

_Mommy didn't look human? _Evie wondered. She wasn't going to stay silent any more. Why did they say her mother didn't look human? "Mommy…" she croaked, wincing at how weak and scratchy her voice sounded.

Gasping aloud, Margery rushed to her bedside, green eyes magnified by her thick glasses. "Evie, are you alright?" she asked gruffly, worry snaking its way into her voice. Distantly, Evie could hear her calling for Miss Geraldine, her daughter.

"Where's my…mom?" she choked out, trying to swallow. "Did…did she get out…alright?"

Mattie stared at her sadly, clutching Evie's tiny little hand in both of her. "Evelyn…" Margery murmured softly. "Your mother…she didn't make it out."

Evie didn't move. She felt as if the world had just shattered, yanking the proverbial rug from right underneath her unsuspecting feet. The fire. Her mother's pleas for her young life… "No…" she whispered hoarsely, throat constricting in her agony. "No…no…you're lying! My mom's alright! _You're lying!_"

The woman who had entered sat on the edge of Evie's bed, tawny colored hair loose around her face, gray eyes soft with sympathy. The child she was holding had her eyes and coloring. Mattie looked like her father, with her rosy cheeks and thick, dark hair. She was still holding her hand.

The woman's hand found itself to her hair, raking her fingers through it softly. "It's okay, Evie…" she murmured softly.

"It's not okay," Evie—now Evelyn—whispered brokenly. "It will _never_ be okay…Mom's dead. The fire was my fault!"

Mattie looked at her mother sadly, unable to comprehend the severity of the situation. Her sister stared at Evie as if she had suddenly morphed into an alien, compress slipping just enough to reveal angry red muscle, skin blackened around the edges of her burn. It would hurt. It would leave scars. But she would heal. She was strong.

The little girl withe ribbons in her hair was gone now, burned to a crisp and scattered to the four winds. Left behind was this girl with fire in her hair, her voice, her skin; an angry thing of black and yellow and red. Gone was the drive for adventure, the need to know for the sake of knowing. Here to stay was the unwarranted passion of revenge.

This is the story of Evelyn Yates.

And she is, above all things, a fighter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

**The Three Alchemists**

_"…To you, Children of God, who live upon this great earth, pray and believe, and you shall be saved…"_

All sound throughout the city, from the casual chirping of birds to banal conversation seemed to grind to a halt. The broadcast had begun automatically, from all radios in the general area capable of receiving transmissions. Honestly it was a feat I was beyond impressed with. From all four corners of the desert oasis, the sermon ebbed and flowed, overlaying all snippets of quiet conversation that rarely cropped up. Whoever this man was, he had the reverence of the whole damned town.

_"The Sun God Leto shines light upon you to show you the way…"_

I wasn't paying much attention to my companions. This guy really had a way with words, going on about 'divine thrones' and 'salvation from sins'. Hell, everyone wants a bit of salvation in their lives. This guy was beyond prepared to palliate the masses, but for what? Religious officials who headed up their own churches tended to like money and women a little more than the average corrupt bureaucrat. I heard rumors of a cult leader up north who liked them very young. Maybe that was this guy's deal…

I just barely caught the owner of a small stand's doubtful stare directed at the three of us, and his following words:

"What are you, street performers?"

Spluttering, half of his drink leaving his mouth, Ed glared up at the shop owner, anger clear on his overly expressive face. "Where the hell would you get that idea?" he growled out.

"Why?" the owner asked, honestly skeptical. "Am I wrong?"

Vein writhing in my forehead, I exhaled like it was a chore and hopped from my seat. Ed joined me a moment later. Of course this backwards pack of desert idiots would expect two kids and a walking suit of armor to be street performers. Only natural. I gave my choice of attire half of a blank stare. Hooded black jacket that zippered under the most impressive of circumstances, buttoned tunic shirt in navy underneath, grey fabric that may have been a scarf in a past life looped twice around my neck, and my leather gloves. Then there were my slightly tattered (and very faded) jeans and black combat boots. Paired with Ed's flowing red coat, boots with lifts in them (he shrinks to my height once he's out of them), and leather pants that, to this day, I still don't know how he gets in and out of with such speed, and our walking suit of armor…. Yeah. We really did look like street performers to these people.

"Thanks for the meal," I settled for instead, voice low in exasperation.

Al, sensing the animosity growing between me and the stupid café owner, stood up to join us. Quite frankly, the faster we got out of here, the less papers I had to sign once we got back to Central. His head, however, struck the roof of the modest little stand, dislodging the radio broadcasting the sermon, and sending it on an inevitable meeting with the ground.

The struggles of being an incorporeal soul bound to a seven foot tall suit of armor is innumerable.

I couldn't help but wince at the crash; Ed, however, let out a sigh. The shop owner let out a pained cry, as if the radio's destruction (which probably only cost 20,000 sens) had been caused by his own hand. "Hey, mister!" he shouted. "Try to be a little more careful!"

"Sorry about that, pops," Ed said with a smug smile, "we'll fix it up good as new."

"How can you 'fix' it?" the shop owner cried. "It's in a million pieces!"

"Old man," I said, arms crossed firmly against my chest, "it can be in a million pieces, torched, _and _catalyzed in amber, and we'd still be able to fix it."

Ed glanced at me with an arched eyebrow. "_You_ need to get out more."

I glared. "_You_ need to grow up."

Before the fight could escalate from verbal to physical (as it inevitably would), Al had already sketched a transmutation circle around the totaled radio. "Here I go," he said with a sigh, crossing his hands above the circle. There was a particularly flashy burst of alchemy, a puff of steam, and the radio was fixed, continuing to play the sermon as if it hadn't met an extremely timely end. That old man on the opposite side of the broadcast was starting to drone.

"How was that?" Ed asked, smirking cockily, pointing at the radio.

"Wow, that's a surprise," the café owner said, shock apparent on his face (did these people get out at all?), "you can perform miracles, too?"

"Come again, old man?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"What the hell…?" Ed asked, all cockiness lost.

"We're alchemists," Al explained for the pair of us.

"That's the first time I've heard of something like that," a patron, who had watched the display of alchemy, whispered to another.

"Then you've never heard of us, Elric and Yates," Ed and I said in unison, matching grins on our faces. I was proud to say that mine was more prideful and smirkish than smug and assholeish.

"Elric and Yates?" the café owner repeated, as if he were hard of hearing.

"Wait a second," the same person who commented on our alchemy said. "I have! The Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric! And the Whitewood Alchemist, Evelyn Yates!"

"So you're the two rumored child prodigies!"

Eyes closed, I basked in the praise, glad to be recognized. Usually, once people hear 'Elric', they immediately think that I'm some cutesy little girl doting on the most famed alchemist in the country. Yeah, so he's fifteen and brilliant. I can warrant a bet that I'm at least twice as brilliant as he is, and I'm his brother's age.

"Ah, I get it! They call you 'Fullmetal' because you wear all that armor!"

At those words, I could already feel Ed starting to seethe next to me. I could feel a snigger rising, but I squashed it for decorum's sake only.

"I-it's not me! It's him," I heard Al say.

At once, all sound from the crowd surrounding Alphonse seemed to stop.

"If that little guy over there is the Fullmetal Alchemist…" one man ventured, "then the little girl next to him is the Whitewood Alchemist!"

"_Who're you calling a pea-sized runt_?" Ed exploded, lunging for the crowd with the intent to kill.

"I am not a little girl!" I shouted angrily, gripping the nearest man by his shirt collar and hauling him to his feet. Ignoring his fear, I threw him into the crowd, where I heard him crash satisfyingly against a friend of his. "Could a little girl do _that?_"

"So," Ed growled out, once the crowd had settled. "Who's on the broadcast?"

"T-that's the H-High Priest, Father Cornello," the café owner stumbled out, recoiling in terror from the mere sight of us. As he should.

"H-he came here a few years ago and taught us about the path of God."

"He will make his followers immortal and raise the dead!"

"And proof of it are all the miracles he performs!"

With each proclamation to their cult leader's (because that's all he really was) promise and renown, the crowd became more and more agitated, full of loud, rushing voices. It was as if the loudest voice would get to their god's heaven first.

"'Raise the dead' eh?" Ed echoed, arms loose at his side. "Sounds fishy to me…"

"Well, Father Cornello is having a miracle gathering by the Church of Leto now," a young woman said. "You can go and see for yourselves!"

I looked at Ed and Al, an eyebrow arched, "So, let's check out your fishy feeling," I said. Then, mockingly, I bent forward and sniffed, a disgusted look on my face. "Although…I think that fishiness is that coat of yours. When was the last time you took a bath, Elric?"

All I got in reply was a particularly nasty glare, and a slap upside the head. "Shut up, Yates," he said angrily, stalking toward a large, dominating spire, which could only be the church.

The courtyard outside the church was filled with people by the time we got there; the air alive with rose petals. I growled angrily up at Ed: "You're hogging the trunk!"

True to his infuriating nature, Ed had set out traveling trunk down on the cobbled ground, and had proceeded to use it as a platform, leaving me below the crowd and blind to everything.

"And?" he asked, looking down his nose at me.

"Ever here of ladies first?"

" 'Ladies first'?" Another smug grin overcame his face, one that I _really _needed to punch off. "Alright then. Al, you're first on the trunk!"

"Don't drag me into this!" Al protested feebly, looking down at us. "Eve, you can hop on my shoulders, if you want."

"Why thank you, Alphonse," I said with a purposeful look at Ed, who huffed and turned his attention back to the crowd. As I braced one hand on Al's proffered forearm and the other on his chest plate, I said, offhandedly, "Maybe this'll spur me into buying my own trunk."

"That's just more stuff to carry around!" Ed snapped.

"It's bad enough that you're boxers are touching my br—"

"Guys!" Al cried. I was sure that if a suit of armor could blush, poor Al would be a billion different shades of red. "Can we please focus?"

I sighed, turning my attention back to the face of the church, reluctant to give up such a golden opportunity to tease Ed. Now that I was above crowd level I could see that a particularly fat, bald man was standing on the front steps leading to the doors of the church. He was smiling coyly; a hand was raised in greeting. Out of the air, he plucked a dried rose petal. There was the usual hair-raising effect of alchemy performed too close, accompanied by an unusual flash of red light. When he spread his hands, replaced was an elaborate jeweled carving of flowers.

"So this is what they were talking about," Ed mused, all animosity between us temporarily forgotten.

"So what do you think?" I asked.

"It's pretty obvious that it's alchemy," Al said, soul-fire eyes seeming to burn just a hint brighter.

"But he's completely ignoring the Law of Equivalent Exchange," Ed pointed out.

"Not to mention the Law of Natural Providence," I mused. "Ridiculous, don't you think?"

"Yeah. And he changed the flower into an inorganic substance, too," Alphonse said, trailing off. "Brother…do you think?"

"Yeah. I do."

All three pairs of our eyes focused onto the pudgy hand pressed against vestments. On his ring finger was a gold band, tiny red stone encased within. Instinctively, I could feel my pulse quicken, and my eyes narrow.

"That's it…" Ed whispered, "We've got it now…"

…

If we thought the outside of the church was gaudy, the inside was ten times worse. Mahogany pews lined each side, leaving a single wide aisle straight down the middle. The statue of an obscenely tall man with a crown and beard was within the sacristy. In front of it was a mahogany alter, covered in a clean linen cloth, four lit candles of ascending height stood on top. In front of the alter, a young woman knelt, head bowed in prayer. Even from where we stood, at the back of the church, we could hear her.

"God…please listen to my wish…" she whispered, "Please bring back—"

"So this is Leto," Ed interrupted, stepping forward with an easy grin on his face. The girl spun to face us, pink bangs waving in front of her face.

"Hello," she greeted warily, standing to face us. "Are you interested in Letoism?"

"Nah," I said with a dismissive wave at the statue, and the girl. "We're agnostics."

"That's not good," she said with a small smile, "to know God…is living in gratitude and hope. It's glorious." A passionate fire sprung forth within her eyes. "I'm sure if you believe, Leto will make you grow taller!"

"What did you say?" I screeched, my voice overvoicing Ed's (a testament to itself). I felt Al tug at my hood, struck between grateful and irate.

"I'm sure she didn't mean it in a bad way," Al soothed. I exhaled through my nose and chose to sit, not on the seat of the pew like Ed, but on the back, balancing my weight evenly with my feet where my butt should've been. The girl looked disapprovingly at me.

" 'Raise the dead'," Ed quoted, deadly serious as he glared up at her, "you really believe in something so ridiculous?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "With all my heart."

Ed sighed, casting a glance up at me. Do the honors? he seemed to ask. I nodded, reaching into the inner pocket of my jacket to retrieve a moleskin journal. I undid the string, flipping open to a page marked by one of the many colored tabs poking out from the pages. Taking a moment to decipher my cramped (and coded) writing, I recited: "Water: 35 liters. Carbon: 20 kilograms. Ammonia: 4 liters. Lime: 1.5 kilograms. Phosphorus: 800 grams. Salt: 250 grams. Saltpeter: 100 grams. Sulfur: 80 grams. Fluorine: 7.5 grams. Iron: 5 grams. Silicon: 3 grams. And 15 other elements in trace quantities."

Already, without her even murmuring the "What?" on her tongue, I could tell that she didn't understand a single word that came out of my mouth. In stead, I just shut my book, holding it in my gloved hand.

"This is the basic chemical makeup of the average adult human body," Ed said, intently studying his dangling gloved hands. "Down to the last specks of protein in your eyelashes."

"We all know this, through advances in science," I continued. "But even when we know all of this, we still can't manage to recreate a single human."

"Do you really think prayer will solve something that science can't?"

" 'Pray and believe and your wishes shall be'!" she retorted sharply. Damn, wasn't she the devout one…

"And might we be so kind to add," I said with a conspiratorial smile.

"You can buy all those ingredients down in your local market with nothing that a child's pocket change," Ed said with a wide, sarcastic smile, arms crossed behind his head. "Humans are made on the cheap, aren't they?"

"People are not things," the girl said angrily, "that's…that's blasphemy! You're insulting the creator! You'll suffer punishment for that."

Me and Ed shared a dubious look, before letting out a bout of raucous laughter. "We alchemists are scientists after all," I said, smothering my chuckles, "We don't believe in things we can't see, like God, or some 'creator'. We're constantly striving to discover the truth of the world, and why we were created in the first place."

"It's ironic that we," Ed said, staring up at the statue of Leto, "who don't even believe in God, are, in a sense, the closest thing to him."

"Are you saying that you're God's equal?" the girl asked angrily. "How arrogant!"

"Arrogance, eh?" Ed said with a smirk (he was fond of smirking, in case you didn't get that yet), right hand clasped over his crossed left knee. "There was once a boy who made wings of wax. He was at first elated by the fact that he could fly over the ocean like a bird. But he grew arrogant and flew too close to the sun. The wax wings melted, and he came crashing into the sea to drown."

As if suddenly possessed, he leapt from his seat, bowing deeply to the girl in—dare I say it—repentance. "Miss, do you think that your God, Leto, can save lowly, arrogant alchemists such as we?" he asked.

I looked at him as if he grew a vestigial head on his back, then at his brother, who shrugged absently. This is Ed; he does tend to come up with his plans on the fly.

"Oh what the hell," I said, clapping my hands together. "Never too late to get religion, my gran—bless her soul—always used to say."

"Of course!" the girl cried happily, looking ten ways to heaven with joy. "Leto is always accepting of reformers!"

Again I looked at Ed as the girl went to lead us down a side aisle.

Really?

The girl, who had already introduced herself as Rose once we 'gained' interest in Letoism, lead us through the church. Simple hewn hallways were all that greeted us, all decoration lost in that first main room. I must admit, it was very maze like.

"The High Priest is a very busy man," she chirped, pushing open a set of doors engraved with a stylus of the sun, "so he usually cannot find time for matters such as this…"

"You certainly are lucky," said a man who had introduced himself as Brother Cray. He'd joined us somewhere between here and the main church. Right now, his hand was fingering something in his sleeve that I couldn't see. How suspicious.

"Sorry for the trouble," Ed said with a smug grin, "we'll make it quick."

"Yes," Cray murmured, pulling that same something from his vestments. "Let's end this quickly."

The hair rose on the back of my neck, and I spun around, only to be stopped by the sight of an axe at my neck. Overkill, much? I froze, watching Ed warily, who was glaring down the barrel of a revolver.

"Cray!" Rose cried in shock, hands flying to her mouth in shock. Good, so she wasn't in on this little setup. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Rose," Cray said, "these people are heathens who are out to discredit His Holiness. They are evil."

Wow. These guys were scarily on the up.

"No, that's—"

"Well, you want it over quick," I growled out, sliding underneath the axe while the penitent man was distracted by Rose and Cray's little exchange. "So let's end this quick!" Before the guard could recoil, I gripped him by his arm, tucked forward, and flung him over my shoulder, staring at the sharp edge of the axe head all the while. Next to me, Ed mirrored my action, twisting the other man's arm behind his back. Ahead of us, Al clenched his fist and rammed it into Cray's face. The man looked as stunned as if he had seen his sun god; the revolver flew from his hand to land at Rose's feet.

The man I had flipped began to scramble away, obviously hell bent on alerting whoever the hell 'His Holiness' was. Ed picked up the axe, weighing it momentarily in his hand, before sending it flying, butt-first, at the poor man. It struck him behind the knees, back of the head, and his spine, leaving him stunned, but not dead. "Strike!"

The sound of approaching footsteps drew our attention to a still shrouded area of the room. As he stepped into view, I couldn't help but let the grimace on my face deepen into an almost identical scowl to Ed's. Not another scary resemblance…

"Welcome to our holy order, Whitewood and Fullmetal," the priest greeted, a nasty and overconfident smirk on his face.

"Father Cornello!" Rose beamed.

"Seems a few of us were a bit hasty," Cornello said, observing the carnage with a flippant gaze. "I apologize for their rudeness."

"It doesn't seem like much of an apology when you're the one all the way up there," Ed said with an all-knowing smile. True, Cornello was standing on a balcony at least fifteen feet off the ground. Two separate staircases led up from the ground floor, meeting in the middle, where he stood like his Leto.

"Are you here to learn the ways of God?"

"Yeah, so school us, old man," I said, crossing my arms. "How are you keeping up with this little farce by faking your miracles with petty alchemy?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, little gi—"

"_Who do you think you're callin' a little girl who's too weak and fragile to learn alchemy?_" I screeched. Al pulled at my hood again, keeping me more or less on the ground. "Let me _go_, Al!"

"—I can't have you putting my miracles and your arcane alchemy on the same level," that bastard continued, as if I hadn't said anything at all. He folded his hands horizontally, a traditional transmutation circuit that Al uses often, sans circle. Red lightning lashed out, and, raising one hand, a smaller statue of Leto began to appear in his hand. "See? Can your alchemy create something from nothing?"

Rose looked up at Cornello, a wide eyed, wonderstruck look on her face. "That's precisely what I was concerned about," Ed said. He scratched at his head, "See, the problem was that you can perform transmutations while cutting corners with the laws."

"Which is why it isn't alchemy," Cornello shouted, placing the tiny statuette on the banister.

"So I was thinking," Ed interrupted, "what if you had a legendary alchemic amplifier. One that makes the impossible possible."

"What?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," I breathed out, glaring up at him. "That ring on your right hand."

"This is a gift from our God, Leto," Cornello said airily. I was beginning to get annoyed with his sanctimonious hokum.

"Guess I'll just have to get my hands on your body and find out for myself," Ed said, a crazed smile on his face. Not for the first time, I began to think that this search of his had driven him off the deep end.

Not that my own was any less mad.

"You seem to be an incorrigible heathen," Cornello said, face serious. "Rose."

Startled at being addressed, the once silent girl spun to face Cornello. "Y-yes?" she asked timidly.

"Pick up the revolver at your feet."

Rose stared down at the long-forgotten weapon at her feet like she was a child who didn't know what a gun was. Already I could tell that Cornello had something nasty in mind. "Yes, sir…" she whispered, lifting the revolver into her hand.

"Now shoot the Fullmetal and Whitewood Alchemists."

I froze. Ed's eyes widened. Rose gazed up at Cornello, horror clear in her eyes.

"I…I can't do that…"

"My words are the words of God," he said, unable to keep the haughty tone from his voice. "This is the will of God. Shoot them Rose."

Rose raised the gun, cradling it against her chest. It must've been tearing her apart: the decision to murder us and please His Sanctimoniousness, or not and condemn her soul to whatever hell Letoism believed in…

"What's wrong?" Cornello sneered. "Have you forgotten who saved you from that well of despair after your love died."

"It was you, Father Cornello," she whispered.

"That's right! It was I who rescued you. And what did I promise you?"

"That you would bring him back!" Rose cried. She took aim at Al, who immediately waved his hands.

"I'm not the Fullmetal Alchemist!" he squeaked out.

Rose looked at Ed. "So you're the Whitewood Alchemist, then?"

"I'm the goddamn Whitewood Alchemist!" I screeched. "Doofus over there is Fullmetal!" I gestured violently between us. "Edward Elric: Fullmetal Alchemist. Evelyn Yates: Whitewood Alchemist. _White. Wood_! Are two goddamned words to hard to remember? _Last I checked, they both start with the goddamned letter 'W'_!"

"Wait!" Cornello balked, staring down at us in shock. "You're Fullmetal?" He stared at me dubiously, as if he still didn't believe it. "And you're Whitewood?"

Rose lowered the revolver, now aiming at Ed, and, inevitably, me. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "but I have to do this."

"He's a conman, Rose," I said angrily, edging myself so that I was in front of Ed. He bristled, placing a hand on my right shoulder to shove me out of the way.

"No he's not!" she protested. "He's going to revive him with his miracles!"

"Then shoot," I snarled. "I'll take the bullet. Hell, I'll take the entire chamber, only to prove you wrong."

Rose began shaking, returning the pistol to its cradled position against her chest. But I still outstretched my arms, making as much of a shield as I could of myself. Ed was seething behind me, and, I knew once we were out of this, I'd have my ear chewed off for 'recklessly tossing myself in danger.' Like he had the right to tell me what I could and couldn't do with my life. If I wanted to go out saving his stupid ass, then so be it, that's how I'd go.

I jumped as the weapon went off, ripping through Al's armor like it was paper. His helmet flew off, and, like a mannequin with its strings cut, he flopped to the floor, lifeless. The weapon dropped from Rose's hand, terror shaking her body. She screamed, loud and high with fright and the knowledge of what she'd done.

Well, what she'd almost done.

"Good work Rose," Cornello sneered, "God is pleased. Now, shoot the others."

"Man, you make your followers do some terrible things," Al said, pulling himself upright while Ed retrieved his helmet for him.

"What?"

"W-what's happening?" Rose whispered.

"As you can see," I said, rapping on Al's chestplate with my left hand, listening to the almost musical note that rang out as a result, "we aren't exactly the most normal people around."

"See?" Al offered, bending down to Rose's level, so she could clearly see the person (or lack thereof) inside the armor.

"It's empty!" Cornello gasped. "This itself is evidence to their evil! They must be eliminated!" He disappeared from his perch, surprisingly fast for such a fat man. Moments later, a painful sound, reminding me all too much of nails on chalkboard, gritted out. I tensed, spying glowing red eyes.

The monstrosity that crept out of the shadows made me sick. Physically sick. It had the head of a lion, faint traces of transmutation still visible on its yellow flesh. It's body was that of a lizard and lion, with feet that reminded me (strangely) of a chicken.

"Is this your first time seeing a chimera?" I heard Cornello sneer from above, and the sickening feeling left.

"So you made this thing from the Philosopher's Stone, right?" Ed asked nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. "Guess we should arm ourselves. Right, Eve?" Before his mind even began to send out the proper nerve functions to move both arms, mine were performing the same task. God, I need to start hanging out with Al more often…

Bringing our hands together with a sharp clap, we slowly bent to one knee, making sure that there was at least a meter distance between us. Law of Conservation of Mass… sucks when you try to transmute a five story statue from a sliver of gravel, doesn't it? But what can I say? Rebounds suck.

Twin bouts of blue lightning flashed, and I slowly raised my hand, transmuted quarterstaff rising from the shallow dip it was making in the stone floor. Once it was fully created, and I was sure the atoms had settled, I held it at my waist offensively, just like Teacher had taught (beat into) us. Ed held a spear, dragon spearhead a mirror of our Teacher's.

"Without a transmutation circle?" Cornello balked again. I basked in his shock, glad to see some other emotion that that stupid ass sneer on his ugly face. "I guess that title of State Alchemist has to come with something!"

The chimera lashed out, and Ed slashed with his spear, intent on driving it through the beast, but it failed. The chimera extended it's claws, cutting through both spear and the material of Ed's left pant leg. He stared down at it, more startled than hurt.

"But how do you like claws that can cut through iron?"

Ed smirked. "Wrong leg, pal." He lashed out with his foot, landing a solid blow on the chimera's jaw. As it flew past, I slammed the length of my quarterstaff into his throat, making it roar in agony. "Unfortunately, this leg's steel."

The chimera turned its attention to me, and I prepared myself for it's attack. Geez, I haven't had a good fight in a long while. It felt good just to hold the quarterstaff in my hand. I knew I'd be giddy as a schoolgirl once I really got into action.

The chimera lunged, teeth snapping, claws on its remaining paw flashing at my left arm. I rolled to my side, slamming my quarterstaff against the beast's muzzle. I was jerked off my feet when it took hold of the head, jarring me against a pillar so hard, I saw stars. The claws flashed down onto a particularly large rip in my jeans that I hadn't bothered to patch up, tearing it almost completely off from the knee down. There was a bit of blood, but no one took much notice. Raising my left arm, I rammed my elbow into it's nose. The yelp it made brought a quite psychotic smile to my face. Yes. I did love fighting.

It turned its attention back to Ed. I was shocked it hadn't attacked Al yet, so I merely held what remained of my quarterstaff, which was more of a half-staff at the moment.

"If you can't use your claws, just bite them to death!" I heard Cornello bark.

"Hey!" I shouted up at him. "No comments from the peanut gallery!"

He glared at me. I paid him no heed; I was too busy dividing my attention between the chimera taking a treat out of Ed's ar—

What the hell?

I didn't think, even as Ed kicked upward, the impact nearly snapping the chimera's neck. I dropped the quarterstaff, slammed my hands together, and struck the floor so fast, I didn't even think I was consciously aware of it. Pulling at the organic material embedded within the rock (amazing what bountiful life existed out in the desert), I coaxed large white branches up, and urged them to wrap around the still airborne chimera. The reaction was complete in less than five seconds. It certainly beats when I first tried something so big.

The snap of the chimera's neck was sickeningly loud in the room. Cornello gaped down at us, taking in our tattered appearances. "A girl with a metal arm," he mused aloud, "a boy with a metal arm and leg, and an empty suit of armor." I cursed. The chimera had torn straight through my jacket and the shirt underneath, leaving the remains to pool around my wrist and elbow and expose my automail to the torchlight. Ed was no better. The chimera claws had ripped a hole in his left leg, and the combination of the teeth and claws had left his right arm in tatters of red and white.

"We certainly are a mess, Ed," I said with a smile, shrugging off the remains of my jacket, leaving me only in my one-sleeved tunic, and (currently one-legged) jeans, which were splattered a tad with blood. Oh well, that'd have to be repaired later. Ed tore off his jacket, leaving him nearly bare chested, a scrap of remains of his shirt still attached on his left.

Did he have to be so dramatic?

"You've done it, haven't you?" Cornello sneered, and I seriously resisted the urge to transmute him to the floor.

"Get down here, you third-rate hack!" Ed challenged, holding his automail arm up at the ready. "We'll show you that there's no comparison between us!"

"And I'll transmute you into a pretty white oak tree!" I chirped all-too happily. "But you do look more of a dogwood. They're so pretty and delicate in the spring!"

Ed just stared at me, mouth agape in horror. "You've lost it," he said, staring at me with abject disbelief, "you've officially lost it!"

"I haven't lost anything!" I protested. "I…just never had it. Sanity is a memory long, long forgotten—"

"Guys!" Al shouted from the background, drawing us out of our fight.

"Rose," Cornello said, addressing Rose for the first time since she'd learned the truth. "These heathens have committed the greatest taboo an alchemist can commit. Human transmutation."

Human transmutation… Those words echoed horribly in my ears. I smelled arson in the air. Flames seemed to dance in the shadows. Screwing my eyes shut, I immediately began to list the periodic table in alphabetical order.

Actinium, Aluminum, Americium, Antimony, Argon, Arsenic, Astatine…

"They tried to revive the dead," he continued, grinning all too bastardly. No, Eve. Don't think about where your arm really went. Barium comes after Astatine, Berkelium after Barium…

"No way…" Rose whispered, almost inaudibly.

"This is the body of a sinner who's encroached on God's territory," Ed growled. "Are you prepared to deal with this?"

"Edward Elric and Evelyn Yates," Cornello sneered again, "and you call yourselves 'State Alchemists'? You make me laugh."

"Shut the hell up!" I shouted, vein writhing in my forehead. "I bet you can't piss in a pot without the Philosopher's Stone!"

"Please, Father," Al said, voice soft, but commanding, "give us the Stone before you get hurt."

"How ridiculous!" Cornello scoffed. "Heathen's who have dared step into God's territory!" His hand with the Philosopher's Stone on it touched the cane in his other hand. "I'll send you to God permanently!" Red light flared again, and the cane morphed into a military-issue chain gun.

The spray of bullets was deafening as it approached, drowning out the sound of Ed clapping. He'd saved us by erecting a wall from the ground.

"Nah," he said once the sound had stopped. "He's pissed at us enough just to send us right back."

While Cornello was distracted by the sudden appearance of the wall, Al scooped up Rose and ran towards the door to the back of us. Cornello turned fire on the two. I cringed each time a bullet ricocheted off Al's armor, imagining one piercing the metal…driving through his blood seal keeping him tethered to this earth…

"Al!" I shouted, slamming my palms against the stone wall next to the door. Blue lightning flashed, and a hole appeared into the hallway. "C'mon, Ed!" Turning to Cornello, who was gaping at us in shock, I grinned innocently, clapped my hands once more and touching them to the ground and urged the organic material from the ground. A forest of white vines branched out from the foundation under the balcony, and sent it tumbling to the ground.

"That's for callin' me a little girl!"

By the time I'd jumped out the wall, the hallway was empty; Ed was disappearing around a bend, laughing like a madman. "Damn those boys," I sighed, dashing after them.

By the time I'd caught up them, Al had put Rose down. "…transmute the bell into a megaphone," Ed was saying. "Eve'll come with me, and we'll trick him into saying what he really thinks of his worshippers."

"Thanks for filling me in," I said sarcastically.

"It wasn't my fault you were taking forever!" Ed shouted.

"I collapsed the balcony to keep that priest from following!"

"Why do you need to be so excessive?"

"Brother! Eve!" Al shouted, once again (bless him) bringing us back to the present. "We should hurry up."

…

"So," I finally asked. "How long do you think it'll take Cornello to search his office?"

Ed glanced up at me from his position on the desk, and he shrugged. "Dunno," he said.

"Hopefully long enough for Al to get that megaphone working."

I nodded, falling silent on instinct. "…Do you think you actually have it this time?"

"I hope so."

"It's been three years."

"…That long already?"

I glared down at my automail, waggling the fingers on my left hand, as if on instinct. "Look. I know you long enough, Ed. I want him out of that walking garbage can as much as you," I finally confessed softly, letting my head flop back to hit the wood of the desk. "He can't eat…can't sleep…" I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "I don't know what I'm saying. You probably know all that already…"

"Hey. Your our blood too," he murmured from somewhere above me, "I'm glad your worrying for him, really. But leave the big-sibling worrying thing to me." His tone turned cocky. "You're younger than all of us!"

I felt my cheeks flush at that comment. "At least I'm taller than you when you were fourteen!"

"And you have bigger breasts too!"

Without Al there to mediate us, I leapt up angrily, knocked him flat on the desk, and straddled him with a knee to the chest. I wrapped my hands around his neck, and he wrapped his around mine.

"I…am going…to kill you…Elric!" I choked out.

"Not if…I kill you…first, Yates!"

I heard a soft cough from behind us, and we both turned, savagely locking our gaze onto Cornello. He was smirking at us.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said snidely.

It didn't click with me immediately, but Ed's face lit up like a tomato. "_You sick pervert_!" he howled, flipping me gracelessly to the floor in his horror. "_How the hell could you say something like that? She's goddamned fourteen years old!_"

Oh.

That's disgusting.

"No matter, you brats," he snarled at us, "You'd better be prepared!"

Exhaling all affront, Ed grinned. "Old man," Ed said cockily, sitting up and almost kicking me in the head. "Let's have a heart-to-heart talk."

Grumbling death threats at him under my breath, I hoisted myself onto the desk, sitting cross legged next to Ed. "We just wanna know the secret behind the Stone." He smirked. "Or should we call for the army to mobilize? To inspect the Stone, I mean."

Cornello struggled with the thought, scrunching up his face so comically, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from bursting out laughing at the stupid sight. He finally settled down, shutting the door behind him. "Fine," he said as diplomatically as he could.

"What do you wanna do with the Philosopher's Stone?" I asked, allowing another too-innocent grin onto my face. "You don't need your pitiful order if you have the Stone, do you?"

"My order will produce followers who will joyfully give up their lives for me!" Cornello boasted, a grin on his face. "They will be an undefeatable army who does not even fear death! Just watch…" by now, I had lost interest, holding onto my crossed ankles, trying to find anything to focus on besides Father Nutcase. "…In a few years, I will be stripping this country away by using the Philosopher's Stone, and my stupid followers! But I guess I can share some of the leftovers with you two." He began laughing.

Me and Ed shared a furtive glance, and burst into laughing as well. That stopped Cornello in his tracks, and he took a threatening step forward. "What's so funny?"

"This is why I called you a third-rate hack," Ed said with a smile. To clarify, he held up a small switchbox, which was currently flipped into the 'ON' position. Cornello stared blankly at the switchbox, then at the wires leading from it, which he followed to the microphone at his feet.

"_Y…You little brats_!" He howled, his voice echoing all around Lior, courtesy of the megaphone Al had undoubtedly set up by now at the top of the belfry. "When did you flip that switch?"

"Oh, just before you came in," I said merrily.

"What have you done?" He reached up to transmute his cane once more, but I was already on my feet. They didn't call me Jackrabbit in Violetknoll for nothing.

"Too slow!" I taunted, using my freshly transmuted automail arm to slice through the chain gun while the atoms were still settling into their new form. "We're on different levels, old man."

"I'll just transmute again and again!" he shouted, reaching up to transmute the remaining half of his weapon. I leapt back, vaulting backward off my hands to land in a crouch by Ed. The red light surrounding the still-in progress transmutation was fluctuating angrily, reminding me all too well of That Night. The light was blinding, and Ed jumped in front of me protectively.

When the light faded, I could hear Cornello and Ed's collective gasp of surprise. "A rebound!" he breathed out, and I struggled to see what he was seeing.

Immediately, I wish I hadn't.

Unlike Ed, who had seen only his now machine-infested arm, I caught him in the midst of another transmutation. Apparently he didn't learn the first time. This time, however, he was transmuting himself. He grew out of proportion, body hulking like some sort of monster from a book. His eyes glowed dark red, like the Philosopher's Stone. Ed shoved me behind him again.

"Let's go!" he shouted, grabbing me by the wrist with his automail, dragging me from the room. Cornello followed right on our tails.

We ran, eventually threading our way into the main church hall, the same alter and statue of Leto as before. Cornello swung at Ed, but I dashed forward, sliding like I did when we were kids playing baseball, and sweeping Ed's feet right from underneath him. He flew to the side, tumbling into a pew, leaving me trapped beneath Cornello's fist. Rubble dug into my stomach, leaving me gasping for breath. I could see his other fist lash out, leaving Ed only enough time to block the blow with his automail. "My words are God's words," he snarled at us, grinding his fist further into my back. I hissed as I heard something snap. Well, that's not good. "My fist is the fist of God!"

" 'God's fist'?" Ed sneered, vaulting backwards and out of harm's way. I exhaled, actually relieved that he hadn't come after me, and immediately, Cornello ground his fist in further. I couldn't breathe. My ribcage couldn't expand for that. Oh, this was bad.

I saw a brief flash of light, and, just like that, the pressure off my back was gone. I inhaled sharply, rolling onto my back to inspect for damage. There was blood on my shirt, but it'd have to be taken care of later.

Ed ran passed me, giving me a look that clearly meant 'I'm going to kill you later.' Even though I wanted to jump up and follow him so badly, I knew it was wiser to just stay put.

Besides, it hurt to move.

…

I didn't know how long had passed. I only heard Ed screaming like the devil himself was after him, and Cornello begging for his life. I snorted. What a baby…

A cursory probing of my torso showed some very colorful bruising that perhaps heralded a snapped rib. It hurt to breathe though, so that wasn't good. My leg didn't look like meat like I expected after that chimera was done with it. There was a gash up the shin bone that would need a stitch or so in a few places. I didn't see any bone so that was a plus. All I wanted was a hot bath and a nice lie down, but I knew I wasn't about to get that until we got back to civilization.

All of a sudden, Ed's fist was bunched in my shirt, and I found myself hoisted to my knees. Pain shot through my chest like wildfire, and it was all I could do not to beg for him to put me down.

"I'm going to kill you!" he screeched, shaking me violently back and forth. "What the hell possessed you to go after him? I could've handled him fine, but _nooooooo_, you had to get yourself pinned underneath that bastard's fist! You could've _died_!"

"…Good to know you care," I wheezed out. "L'ggo…can't breathe…"

His face softened, and he placed me back on my feet, putting my right arm around his neck and his left around my waist. "The Stone was a fake," he said before I could even ask him about it.

We both fell into an uncomfortable silence as Ed helped me walk outside, where Al was waiting. Alone. Rose must've gone somewhere to bemoan the loss of her lover once she found out Cornello was a fake.

"Eve!" he gasped, checking for injuries, much to my protests. "Is anything broken—oh my—your _leg!_"

"Ow, ow, _ow_!" I whined, shoving away from the armor's prying leather hands. "_Ow_! Watch it, Al! I'm fine."

"Fine my ass!" Ed growled, slapping me upside the head again. "You deserve any broken bones for being _stupid_!"

I retaliated for the slap by punching him in the face.

"Oh!" Al piped up once Ed had recovered and showed no sign of coming back at me. "What about the Philosopher's Stone?"

A gloomy silence fell over ED again. I was too focused on breathing to do much about it.

"…It was another fake," he said, sounding depressed. "I see…"

Ed softly pounded his flesh hand against Al's chest plate. "And to think I actually thought we'd get your body back this time—"

"Give me the Philosopher's Stone!"

Rose's desperate shout drew all of our attention to her. She was standing with her back to the church, the revolver from our previous fight held shakily in her hands. Unfortunately, with that look in her eyes, she seemed like she was ready to use it.

"Rose…" Al said softly.

"Didn't I just say it was a fake?" Ed retorted. "And, in any case, it broke on its own."

"That's a lie!" Rose accused. "You're just planning on keeping it for yourselves, just so you can fix your bodies, and bring back your mother!"

"Shut up!" I shouted. My left arm felt uncomfortably heavy. "What's gone is gone, Rose. It's gone forever, and nothing'll bring it back!"

Rose collapsed to her knees. "But…" she whispered. "He said that he'd be able to bring him back…He said that if I prayed…it would come true." She looked up at us, tears finally falling. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Ed strode ahead of us, only just remembering to help me along, even though I knew I didn't need it. I sniffed and wiped my hand across my eyes before glaring up at the sun. No tears today, thanks.

"Tell me!" Rose pleaded again.

Ed stopped, eyes focused on the ground, "Decide that for yourself," he bit out, before dragging me along once more. "Get up and take a step. Walk forward. At least you have two legs to carry you."

Good advice. Too bad, even after all these years, I still needed someone to carry me along.


End file.
